


Vigil

by Miss_M



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Episode Related, F/M, Gen, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Show 'Verse, The Mountain and the Viper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_M/pseuds/Miss_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne keeps her vows – by protecting Sansa from Littlefinger’s amorous intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vigil

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this Tumblr post](http://ladyinredfics.tumblr.com/post/87618616121/4-08-the-mountain-and-the-viper-brienne-so-sansa) by Lady_in_Red about GoT S4E8 “The Mountain and the Viper.” Ignore the fact that the Eyrie hardly needs sentries posted on its battlements like it’s any ol’ castle. I own nothing.

Brienne stood her nightly watch in front of Lady Sansa’s chamber door. The sword Jaime had given her was a reassuring weight on her hip, her stance was stable and relaxed, easy to shift into defensive anticipation or an offensive lunge as the situation required. 

Brienne did not expect to have to fight the man whose arrival seemed imminent once the watchmen on the battlements called out the beginning of the hour of the wolf. Brienne could hear them through the open window by Lady Sansa’s door, a faint echo like a far-off hunting horn, snatched away on the winds which always howled around the Eyrie. She did not expect a fight, but it would not do for Brienne to grow lax in her duties. 

Arriving at the Eyrie a fortnight ago, Brienne had been crushed to realize she may as well have stayed in King’s Landing, for all the good she could do to Lady Catelyn’s daughter. That feeling had been swiftly succeeded by relief and shame at Brienne’s fancifulness, for Sansa Stark had revealed herself to the Lords Paramount of the Vale and been extended their protection. One of only two kingdoms untouched by war, the Vale of Arryn was the best place for the girl, even if Sansa’s formal guardian was her newly minted (and widowed) uncle-by-marriage, Lord Petyr Baelish. He always looked at the pretty young maid, her auburn hair stained dark with walnut juice, in a way Brienne did not particularly like. 

Brienne had decided that she could still uphold her vow to Lady Catelyn by protecting her daughter until such a time when it became possible to escort Lady Sansa north, and then go looking for Arya Stark.

So Brienne stood guard in front of Sansa’s chamber while the girl slept unmolested within. Brienne herself slept during the day, between sparring in the practice yard and her nightly vigil. She was still intent on drilling Podrick, so far behind had the lad fallen under Tyrion Lannister’s dubious tutelage. She could not trust him with guarding Sansa while Brienne rested, for Podrick was a man grown, and Sansa such a sweet and pretty girl. It would not do to protect her from Petyr Baelish’s foxy wiles only to have Sansa’s maidenhead fall to Brienne’s almost-squire’s puppyish charms. 

The quiet pad of approaching footsteps in the main corridor – a small, light-footed man in soft boots moving in stealth – did not pass unnoticed by Brienne. The snick of Valyrian steel sliding out of its scabbard was deliberately loud enough to drown out the scuff of boots on stone. 

Brienne felt gratified at how she managed to win nightly duel after nightly duel with naught but her words, and against such a well-spoken man as Petyr Baelish. But win or lose at words, Brienne felt better with Oathkeeper in her hand, the blade glistening red and black like blood on oily water. 

Baelish’s footsteps paused for only a moment before they resumed, and the man himself appeared at the opening of the short side corridor leading to Sansa’s door. 

The first time Brienne had elected to stand watch, he had walked past half a dozen times in the course of the night, looking more and more annoyed to find Brienne still there, alert and in place. The second night, they had exchanged silent nods, as though passing each other in the Great Hall on their way to a meal. The third night, Baelish had come closer and engaged Brienne in conversation. And so it had gone for more than a sennight now. 

Sansa had been wary of Brienne at first, wary of her height and armor and the lion-pommelled sword at her side, but the two maids had reached an understanding quickly enough. The same could not be said of Brienne and the Lord Protector of the Vale, despite how courteously they both chose to behave. 

“Lady Brienne,” Baelish offered with a hint of a bow. “A fine night.”

With anyone else, Brienne would have insisted she was no lady and her name would suffice. With Petyr Baelish, she found a sense of distance, of keeping him at sword’s length, useful. As Brienne and Sansa had agreed after a long discussion, courtesy could be a woman’s armor just as well as steel plate. 

“Lord Baelish,” Brienne returned, inclining her head a moment before raising it again, so she could look down at him from her superior height. 

“Lady Sansa is resting?” he inquired solicitously, as if he didn’t know.

Brienne nodded, her eyes intent on the man’s face. He had better manners and greater wealth, but that could not conceal his true nature: in another life, Petyr Baelish would have been one of the men at Highgarden, who had wagered they could take Brienne’s maidenhead. The thought was shameful, but she would not have minded teaching Baelish the lesson she had taught the others in the melee at Bitterbridge. 

“I wonder, Lady Brienne, if you would not permit some of my household knights to take your place for an hour or so. You need your rest as well. The knights of the Vale would keep Lady Sansa just as safe.”

Brienne smiled, a baring of teeth, a gauntlet picked up. “My lord is most gracious. But I am well rested and used to keeping vigil here till dawn. I thank you for your concern.”

Offering the services of House Arryn knights, all of them bought with Baelish’s gold or promises of advancement, was only a trick, but it made a nice change. Baelish had already attempted more than once to distract Brienne with food and wine sent up from the kitchens, no doubt seasoned with something to make her sleep. One night the guards on the battlements had raised a hue and cry about thieves in the night. Brienne had remained at Sansa’s door, and soon the noise had subsided. In the morning, no servants had mentioned thieves or intruders. Baelish had even attempted to engage Brienne in conversation near the Moon Door one day while she’d been on her way to the practice yard. Brienne had kept her distance, and her hand on Oathkeeper’s hilt.

Baelish’s eyes drifted to the sword in Brienne’s hand now. The colors rippled in the light from a wall-mounted torch. Brienne kept the blade pointed at the floor, but even so naked steel was like a third participant in the conversation, impossible to ignore. 

Baelish wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Is this all you ever think of, my lady?” he asked, demanded almost, in a tone which skirted exasperation. “Playing knight to another maiden? I could think of several Vale knights who would be honored to call you wife. It would only be a matter of sending a raven to your father…”

He trailed off expectantly, and Brienne swallowed a laugh. Petyr Baelish, desperate – the words fit ill together. Did he really believe that Brienne would wed the first man who offered (who was bribed to offer, barely a step above a wager), and unburden him of her presence at Sansa’s chamber door that way? Jaime would laugh if ever she had the chance to tell him.

Brienne’s smile made the corners of her mouth ache. “I have vows to fulfill, my lord, and will not lay them aside for a husband’s convenience.” Certainly not for any husband Petyr Baelish might provide. 

Baelish seemed inclined to argue the point, settled for a smile which did not reveal his teeth. “I only want what is best for you, now that you are a part of my household.”

Brienne was nothing of the sort. She had sworn Baelish no oaths, and stayed at the Eyrie for Sansa’s sake alone. She looked Baelish in the eye, kept her voice flat. “We know what you want.” 

She may have overreached. The gleam in Baelish’s eye was cold and hard as metal, but he did not respond. With a distinctly curt nod, he turned to depart. Brienne breathed more easily, spoke up without fear. 

“Lord Baelish.” 

He looked back, frowning.

“Your guards raised the alarm because of thieves two nights ago. I noticed the wall under Lady Sansa’s window was overgrown with creeping vines. I took the liberty of cutting them down. It would not do for anyone to attempt to scale the wall and intrude upon Lady Sansa’s rest that way.” 

In truth, the vines had been thin and supple. They would not have borne Brienne’s weight or even Podrick’s – Brienne had made her reluctant squire attempt the ascent she had described, under her watchful eye. He had not climbed higher than sword-length before several vines had been torn away from the wall, dumping Podrick in the dust. 

Petyr Baelish was a small, slim man, and agile. 

“Those vines you destroyed were my property, Lady Brienne,” he said now, his voice tight with barely suppressed fury. 

Brienne bowed as far as her armor would permit, which was not very far. “Apologies, my lord. Lady Sansa’s safety comes first. If you send a raven to King’s Landing, I am certain Ser Jaime Lannister or his lord father, the Hand of the King, would be happy to pay you for any damage I may have caused as part of my quest to protect Lady Stark’s daughters.” 

Lips tightening till they were nearly white, Baelish did not honor that with a response before he swept away, his boots making a sound like scurrying mice down the corridor. 

Brienne sheathed Oathkeeper. Another night, another duel the gods had decided in her favor. Would that Jaime could be there with her. His amusement would have sweetened Brienne’s victory, his approval lent worth to how she chose to uphold her vows, and his company rendered her vigil less lonely. 

Brienne shook her head, shifted on the balls of her feet, stretching tired muscles. The sleeping maid beyond the door and her assured safety were all the company and thanks Brienne needed. Still, it caused no harm that Brienne could see and made the hours pass more swiftly, to let her mind wander and alight where it would, on those rare moments in her life when she had known, if not peace, joy.


End file.
